Round the Merry Home
by Damon-Totoure
Summary: Ratings may change, blah, blah, Set in made-up, total fantasy sorta thing, blah, blah, blah, I really suck at these things, blah, blah, blah, Please read and Review. If you like, Hello and welcome! If you don't like whatever. Feedback! I'm lonely!


_Something sacred, something so beautiful..._

Sparkling violet watched darkly tinted from under the shadows, a light oddity of a half smile on flawless, ice cold lips.

He sat on his wrapped haunches on the cool, damp grass, running a bare hand through the long surrounding strands of greening grass, watching with blank eyes as the cool, short thin blades slid through his long scarred fingers.

Nobody could see him. And just as well; No muss, no fuss, as they said.

The wavering, considerably longer, damp grass swayed with the faltering wind above his head and shoulders, brushing down his neck and bare arms.

He could hear the tinkering laughter of young ones who have yet to loose innocence, could smell the scents of working people all around him from the village, could feel the breezes of movement and breath sway around his body like silk scarfs on dancers back at his own home village.

He took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his head and wash away any other thought. He gently sat cross-legged, straightening his back to his full sitting height. He closed his eyes, bothering not to pull his face mask over his muzzle.

He just sat there for a few moments, listening.

_Click. _

_Snap._

His eyes snapped open.

In a matter of milliseconds, he was whirling around on the balls of his feet and springing to the side, diving in a roll into the long grass and thoroughly out of sight.

He sat very still, on his crouched haunches and elbows, listening without breathing. The wind gently shifted, stirring his many limp, ropey dreads around his hunched shoulders. The glass beads _clinked _together around the twisted metal that coldly pressed down on his damp fur from the ends of his long dreads, swaying, threatening to give him away to the sneaking stranger who apparently knew he was there.

"...Hello?"

He kept his dark eyes focused on the ground, concentrating on the surrounding grass area for the calling-searching One.

Must. **NOT**. Be. Given. _Away_...

Could. **NOT**. Be. Given. Away.

A ninja **CANNOT **be caught. Too much to be given away...so easy to take, so much trouble if given away...so much terrible, horrible trouble if caught...

His body tightened.

His heart began pounding, his lungs were beginning to burn from lack of air, his vision was clouding, he **had **to make this last, he **had **to get away, he **could NOT **get caught!!

The grass rustled with another's movement up ahead of him.

He kept his eyes trained on the swaying grass heads, praying whoever they were didn't hear his beating heart.

The wind was picking up terribly, whipping stronger and more fierce through the grass, sending tiny shock waves of cold and stinging as the grass strands whipped against his bare arms and face.

Keeping his gaze locked on the moving grass for the Unknown, he cautiously reached up with one shaking hand and slowly, carefully, pulled his face mask over his muzzle and nose, hiding half his face underneath soft fabric that felt like flawless silk to his cut, frozen fingers.

"Is anybody there?"

He slowly reached into the small leather pack tied to his waist and fingered one of the many needles hidden inside.

"Hello?"

He relaxed the slightest bit, pulling his fingers from the pack and away from the needles.

The grass above him stopped moving, signifying whoever was there before was gone. Hopefully.

He cautiously stood slightly, barely lifting his heavy head, tilting slightly to the side as he listened for any more noises.

"GOTCHA!!"

He whirled around, fangs bared, though the man couldn't see them through the face mask, and claws gleaming sharply.

The pudgy male gasped loudly, his eyes almost bulging from his head in shock and jaw nearly hitting the ground as he fell backwards and crawled backwards like a crab as he stared in horror and shock.

With an intimidating hiss, he slowly crawled toward the shell-shocked man on all fours, ignoring the freezing wind that whipped around his small body.

His sharp claws gleamed like marble, bone white and lethal looking with curving sharpness that formed from his long, thin fingers. His body was tensing with muscles uncoiling and recoiling underneath the torn clothing and bruised skin and thick, scraggily fur.

The man trembled in fear as he slowly drew closer, dark eyes daring with sharp cruelty that meant death to any who wronged the owner.

The podgy man backed further away, shaking clearly in fright and stunned horror. Taking his chance, the small being suddenly dashed forward, startling a strangled yelp from the pudgy man and sprinted back, away from the cover of the damp, swaying grass and into the surrounding forest foliage as fast as his burning body could take him.

He dashed through the darkness, crashing carelessly through the thick low-hanging trees and leaves scattering across the wood's floor. His searing feet were quickly getting jangled and slow, slipping over the ground and tripping over rock and leaf alike until his foot finally caught full-on onto an exposed root, tripping him head over heels onto the soaking earth.

For a long moment, he just lay there, gasping heavily as thick rain pelted down onto him through the tree leafage, soaking what little remained of his clothes and mangled fur.

His heavy eyes drooped and, his breathing laborious, he simply lay. On the forest floor, he slowly lost consciousness, leaving the world of the cruel living and cold rain.

"I'm-a tellin' ya, Momulla," the big man fumbled. "Thar' be sumthin' ootta thar'!" (A/N: Yes, that would all be the correct spelling. I r smart! S-M-R-T)

The big man stood, panting heavily, and with matted fur covering his wildly glowing eye, he looked like a madmen.

The old woman sighed. Why did she always get stuck with the impossible ones?

"Majo," she firmly said, giving the big man a steady look in the eye with her own black eyes. "There is nothing out in the wood that will harm us. The Warriors will make sure of that."

Majo gave the old woman a hurt look.

"You don' believe ma?"

She sighed again, massaging her temples with gnarled fingers.

"Majo, please," she sighed. "Not now. I have business to do. I'm very busy-"

"But-but-" he sputtered. "I-I really saw sumthin', Momulla! It was-it was t-terrifying! It 'ad claws like a Bloody Wolf! It 'issed at ma! It-it could-a attacked ma!"

"But it didn't," she firmly said. "Obviously since you're still standing here, apparently alive and well enough to wake the whole village with your screaming and shouting of imaginary beasts with claws and whatnot."

The big man looked at her with big drooping eyes brimming with hurt.

She grimaced.

"If you can bring me proof of this-this _thing's_ existence," she said with a small wave of her hand. "Then I will send for a search party and deal with it accordingly."

End chap 1

(A/N: Pronounced; May-Ho


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